


In Those Jeans

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick learns that Ashe <i>does</i> top, after all. He also hopes that Ashe learns that it's kind of impossible to ever make Frederick stop thinking about Ashe in those damn jeans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Those Jeans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingenius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenius/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tale of a Modern Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/22260) by ingenius. 



> This is an original fic remix/fanfic for the one-shot fic above. This is kind of a companion fic to [Scratch for the Itch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/818920), as that is where the jeans are first mentioned, but it works well enough even if you haven't read that. It does not, however, work well if you haven't read the story both of these are based on, as it's set directly after the events at the end of ToaMT.

Frederick lounges on the couch, basking in the lingering haze of the most fantastic blow job he's had in weeks (the only blow job, if he wants to get technical about it) when Ashe comes out of his bedroom after his usual morning shower wearing a tank top and _those_ jeans. The ones full of holes; the ones that broke Frederick in the first place. The ones Frederick was sure he'd never see again after Ashe told him about the six months he'd spent running from reality after the shit hit the fan.

Either Ashe remembers which pair of underwear he was wearing the first time or the universe has aligned to give Frederick exactly what he wants. He licks his lips, but his mouth is already dry at the sight of the jeans so he doesn't get much out of it.

"Ashe," he says, his voice more raspy than he'd like.

"Red," Ashe replies, grinning in a way that says the underwear aren't an accident.

Frederick cups a hand over Ashe's ass when Ashe stops right in front of him but doesn't make any move to come closer. "You really love those jeans, huh?"

"Not as much as you do," Ashe says, and tilts his head back, baring the long line of his throat. But Frederick's more interested in the way Ashe shifts his hips, at which point Frederick realizes that there are new holes. They're all perfectly round, five in the baggy area to the left of the crotch where there's no skin beneath, and one on the right side, directly above Ashe's knee.

"These are new," he murmurs, hand sliding down, pinky pushing inside of the hole above Ashe's knee. He remembers Ashe's evasive _Maybe I'll tell you someday_ when he asked about the rips and holes before, and wonders if he'll get a better answer now that Ashe's big secret is out. "What happened?"

"I was stupid," Ashe says without hesitation but with a shrug that looks about as uncomfortable as his voice sounds. He cups his hand around Frederick's, not directing, just touching the hole above his knee. "This one, I fell asleep with a cigarette in my hand. There's a little burn there, too."

"Ah," Frederick says, letting his arm muscles loosen as Ashe tugs his hand upward.

Ashe guides Frederick's fingers back and forth over the smaller holes in slow circles, just looking down at their hands, brows furrowed like he's having trouble telling Frederick what these are from. The jeans are baggy enough that he's not even touching Ashe's cock, so it's more sensual than sexual. Finally, Ashe says, "These happened at the same time. I was--it wasn't a good place. I don't even remember if I had a reason for doing it, honestly. Just sitting there burning holes in your favorite pair of jeans."

"It's okay," Frederick tells him, because it is. There's no way it couldn't be, with them together again. (And Ashe wearing those jeans.) "You made it through, and these are just a souvenir to show for it." The hole closest to Ashe's crotch is large enough for Frederick to push his forefinger into, and he hooks it inside and pulls Ashe down into his lap, down into a kiss with him half-kneeling on Frederick's lap, half on the couch.

Putting his head back and just letting Ashe kiss him feels amazing, actually. Frederick's other hand traces the lines of Ashe's muscles. They're about as big as Frederick's, now, and he's built in a way that just makes Frederick's cock hard thinking about it. When Ashe finally pulls away, Frederick grins at him. "Bet you could give me an even better run for my money now," he said, squeezing Ash's bicep.

Ashe's eyebrows go up and he grins right back. "I bet I could beat you, actually. I've had proper training now."

Oh _really_? Frederick just hums and untangles his finger from the hole in Ashe's jeans and squeezes both biceps at once, loving the hard muscle under his fingertips. "That's so fucking hot, you know."

"That I can kick your ass?" Ashe asks, leaning down and letting his voice drop low. Husky.

Frederick nods. "Fuck yes. I wish you liked topping, because--"

Ashe leans his forehead against Frederick's, looking positively dangerous. "Who said I don't like topping?"

"You, when I asked if you ever switched it up." Frederick remembers Ashe's disdain too clearly to ever ask again, thank you very much. Then again, he remembers a lot of other emotions Ashe couldn't possibly felt; Ashe is a damn good actor.

"Ashe _Morrison_ doesn't like topping," he says, with more venom than the statement requires.

"Let's start over, then," Frederick says, smiling a lazy smile up at Ashe, fingers slipping into the back waistband of Ashe's jeans. "I'm Frederick Wyman, and I don't pick favorites, but I can't think of anything better than you holding me down and fucking me." You have eight months of lies to make up for, Frederick thinks, but doesn't say.

"Ashe Ellison." He rocks back against Frederick's hand, then reaches for it and moves it around to the front, so the backs of Frederick's fingers brush against the erection straining Ashe's underpants. "And I'd love to hold you, _Frederick Wyman_ , down and fuck you silly."

"Silly?" Frederick raises his eyebrows, doesn't stop smiling.

Ashe nips Frederick's cheek, his jaw, his earlobe. "Silly. I'll fuck you so hard you forget how much you love my jeans."

"Not possible," Frederick says. He turns his hand around, cupping Ashe's erection. He can just imagine it in his ass, imagine Ashe putting that single-minded intensity he puts into living life instead into fucking him. 

"We'll see," Ashe says and hums, and then kisses Frederick.

When he pulls away, Frederick knows Ashe thinks he has a zinger by the tilt of his lips and the mirth in his eyes. "Go on, let's hear it."

"I was just thinking... I suppose that's the one downside of meeting your lover while he's stealing secrets at your daddy's company."

"The _one_ down side?" Frederick asks, incredulous.

"Well," Ashe drawls, rocking his hips against Frederick's hand. "Other than the possibility that your daddy is going to make your co-workers kill him, I guess."

That hits a little too close to home for Frederick, a little too close to what almost happened. It knocks the breath out of him for a moment, and in the next he's abandoned playing with Ashe's cock and wrapped both arms around Ashe, pulling him into a tight hug.

Tight enough that Ashe has to tap out of it, and pants in the aftermath. Then he sighs and buries his face in Frederick's neck, wrapping his arms around Frederick's shoulders and holding on tight. His hand slides into Frederick's hair just right, just the way it should, and Frederick loops both arms around Ashe's chest again.

"Hey," he whispers in Ashe's ear, and Ashe shivers against him. Frederick holds him tighter and doesn't care if he's cutting off Ashe's air supply. " _Hey,_ Ashe, we're okay now."

Ashe sniffs against Frederick's neck, and Frederick abruptly realizes that the heat he feels is also wetness. He lets up some on the hug, and Ashe sniffs again. "I want to just be able to joke about it," he says.

And then he sighs in a way that goes straight to Frederick's cock in spite of everything. Frederick lets his fingers dig in a little. Just a natural reaction to Ashe's hot breath on his bare neck. Nothing else. "Me too." He knows his voice is gravelly, and lets it be that as much as it wants.

"I almost-- _fuck_ , Red, we can't--" Ashe shifts on Frederick's lap, pulling back, tear tracks clear on his face though his expression is determined.

Can't what? Frederick wonders, though Ashe doesn't finish. Instead he leans in and presses his lips to Frederick's. Can't waste this, maybe. He's going to go with that, because he likes it, likes the idea of Ashe suddenly desperate for this because of everything they've been through.

Frederick kisses Ashe back, and Ashe's fingers slide into Frederick's hair again. He pulls in the way that Frederick loves: without fear, with full knowledge of what he's doing and that Frederick loves every fucking second of it. That's what his expression says, when they break the kiss.

"I'm going to spend as much time as possible fucking you," Ashe tells him, voice low and gravelly. Eyes on Frederick's, like a snake watching its prey on those old nature shows. "To make up for all the time we could've been doing it before and didn't because we were being so--so fucking _stupid_."

In no way does Frederick want that to not happen, nor can he disagree with the sentiment, so he smiles and nods and pulls Ashe down for another kiss. Ashe makes the kiss fiery, makes it hard, makes Frederick's cock go from mildly interested to standing up and paying attention.

"What position do you want for our first time?" Ashe asks, the words coming out in an excited rush when the kiss breaks. 

Frederick doesn't even know. He's at a loss and just stares up at Ashe, shaking his head slowly. This is a side of Ashe he's never seen and he always knew it was there, remembers those glimpses, but actually seeing it is like a kick straight to every pleasure point in Frederick's brain. 

Ashe grins like the cheshire cat, a mad thing that unfurls slowly until it lights up his entire face and he says, "I want to face you. I want--I want you to look into my eyes." 

"Yes," Frederick says before he even means to speak. 

"I want to nail you down and make your thighs sore from it. I want, fuck, I want you to come all over me, come so hard it gets on my face, and then I can kiss you, and we can both taste--" 

"Yes," Frederick says again, reaching for Ashe, trying to pull him down and failing miserably. 

Ashe laughs happily, and doesn't miss a beat. "Then we can both taste how fucking good my fucking cock is for you, can't we?" 

" _Yes_." Frederick hisses it this time, and Ashe finally lets himself be pulled into a kiss. It's electric, amazing, so good that Frederick ends up gasping into it, unable to continue, and Ashe chuckles low in his throat in a way that goes straight to Frederick's cock. "Fuck me," he says, short, sharp, desperate. 

"Fuck yes," Ashe breathes, hands already going for Frederick's boxers. Frederick lifts his hips so Ashe can take the damn things off and then it's his naked flesh and those fucking jeans. The jeans that Ashe saved for him, it sounds like. 

He can't think of anything better than that, anything more romantic, anything more Ashe. "Will you keep them on?" Frederick asks, suddenly wanting to feel them, soft denim and rougher holes and... all of it. "While you fuck me, I mean." 

Ashe's eyes go a little wide and then he narrows them, lips curling upward even as they're open and he's panting. "Yes. Of course. Why didn't I--no, I'm glad you thought of it." And he kisses Frederick, like the best kind of praise, and then moves to Frederick's neck and sinks his teeth in. 

Frederick can't do anything but groan and arch into it, his cock rubbing against those jeans. Which aren't rough, not if Ashe's had them since he was a teenager, but are without a doubt rougher than Ashe's skin. And the holes have texture, too, so Frederick can feel it when those holes rub the underside of his cock and he's reminded. 

Yeah, Ashe burned holes in Frederick's favorite pair of pants, because they were that. But he kept them. Through everything, he kept them, and the two of them are here now, and fuck if anything is going to separate them ever again. Frederick is going to give Ashe everything he wants for the rest of their lives and not regret it at all. 

Starting with scooting to the edge of the couch--grabbing a pillow to put behind his back, since he doesn't want a sore back tomorrow, thank you very much--and spreading his legs wide. It distracts Ashe from the wonderful things he's doing to Frederick's throat, but very much makes him aware of the fact that Frederick would like to be fucked now. "Please?" Frederick asks, giving Ashe a hopeful look. 

"Far be it to me to deny you," Ashe says, words so quick he's almost stumbling over them as he sinks down onto the floor, a hand on each of Frederick's knees, slowly sliding up his thighs. "I forgot--fuck, I can't have forgotten since I never got to, but I forgot how much I wanted this, Red." 

Frederick moans, spreading his legs wide enough that he feels the burn on his inner thigh muscles, which just makes Ashe gasp and lean in and bite. All Frederick can do is moan and make sure he's still spread wide, make sure that Ashe can still see how Frederick's cock is so hard that he's starting to leak precome. Make sure Ashe can get at where he wants, too. "C'mon, I need it, Ashe."

Ashe doesn't deny Frederick, either. There's lube in his pocket, and Frederick bets that he wasn't planning on using it this way, but it's just about the best thing in the world--for the moment--to feel that first finger push into him. He fingers himself sometimes, when he's in the shower, but it's never so good as this. 

Never so good as Ashe's intent look, as the way Ashe pulls almost all the way out and then pushes in again, until his knuckles are brushing the underside of Frederick's sack. That makes Frederick jerk and draws a shaky moan out of him. 

That smile looks so good on Ashe. So good, and he's adding a second finger, saying, "I think you're good for this much, aren't you?" 

"Oh yeah," Frederick says, and reaches up, pulling his own hair with one hand. 

Ashe laughs softly, so softly, and shifts up to where his jeans are pressing against the inside of Frederick's thigh and his fingers slide through Frederick's curls, grab on, and pull. 

Like coming home, Frederick thinks, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs out a moan. "So good, Ashe." 

"I know," Ashe says happily, and curls his two fingers, making Frederick's whole body jerk. 

His prostate isn't--it's not that hard to reach, and that was. Too much at once. He gasps in the aftermath, reaching down to grab Ashe's hand with both of his. "Careful. I'm--it's intense for me." 

"Ah," Ashe says softly, knowingly, and kisses Frederick on each cheek. Pulls his hair again, small yanks that make Frederick's cock bounce with each one. He straightens out his fingers and rubs up toward Frederick's stomach, his touch seeming a little more timid now. "Better?" 

Frederick nods mutely, and strokes the inside of Ashe's wrist with one thumb. He likes the feel of the tendon standing out with the way Ashe's wrist is bent, likes feeling every little part of Ashe's body. "Yeah. Much. Just--like that is--" and he cuts off into a little groan at the way Ashe twists his fingers. It's not too much, not even close. "Fuck, that's perfect." 

Of course Ashe does it again, and again, and then three more times for good measure. By then Frederick's gasping, whimpering, because every thrusts gets closer to being too much while at the same time being fucking amazing. 

"I can't--can't fucking wait until--ah--your cock is-- _ah_ \--in me. Fuck. Ashe." 

"Think you can handle it now?" Ashe asks.

Frederick opens his eyes to see Ashe looking--needy. Damn, so needy, the kind of needy that makes Frederick want to nail him straight through the wall. He licks his lips and wants to nod so bad he can taste it, but he knows his body better. But he decides, when Ashe twists his fingers so slowly that Frederick feels the way he has them crossed, feels each knuckle, and finds himself gasping--then is when he decides that he doesn't give a fuck. He'll just bring a cushion to work tomorrow. "Yeah. Yeah, Ashe, I need--just fuck me. Please." 

Ashe wiggles his fingers enough to make Frederick's eyes roll back and his breath just woosh out, not even a moan, and then pulls them out. 

It feels so empty, so cold, but he--has a condom on his cock already. When--when did that even happen? Frederick's so distracted, and he doesn't even care, doesn't do anything but wrap his legs around Ashe's hips as Ashe lines up his cock.

Tight. It hurts, that burn, and Frederick takes deep breaths and makes himself relax. Ashe presses one hand below Frederick's navel, fingers smearing the bits of precome there, hissing a soft "Shhh, shhh, Red." 

Between the two things, Frederick does manage to relax, does manage to take Ashe's cock without anything tearing as Ashe presses it in inch by inch. It's torture to go so slow but they both know it's what he needs. Ashe stops when he's inside of Frederick all the way, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Frederick's chest, hugging him, puffing out little breaths against Frederick's neck. "Fuck. Red. _Fuck_. I forgot--been so long--haven't fucked anyone in--ah--so long." 

The entire time Ashe was at Wyman--eight months--plus at least another six months wherein he said he hadn't had sex with a single person. Hadn't dared trust. Frederick wraps his arms around Ashe, cupping the back of Ashe's neck, the back of his head, feeling how fucking full he feels with Ashe's cock in his ass. "Haven't--haven't been fucked in--ah--years. _Ashe_." 

Frederick makes himself clench around Ashe and gets a groan in return, not to mention Ashe trembling finely for a moment until Frederick lets up. It feels like victory, feels like the his chest is going to burst open when Ashe looks at him like that. 

"Fuck me. Don't--you can't--won't hurt--too bad. Just, fuck-- _ah_ \--fuck me." 

"Yeah," Ashe breathes, and moves, finally moves, rocking back without letting go of Frederick at all. Pure hip motion. Then he pushes back in and they both gasp for breath, both clutch at each other, both shake. 

"More," Frederick says, voice strained, not caring. He's trying not to scream, trying not to make too much noise now so he can make more later, so he can scream Ashe's name when he comes. 

Ashe gives Frederick exactly what he asks for, rocking in and out. Frederick relaxes increment by increment, just the way he's supposed to, but the burn of that initial thrust is still there under everything, like punctuation on every little movement that Ashe makes. In! Out... In! 

He holds on to Ashe when Ashe tries to move away, which only makes Ashe make that gorgeous sound in his throat, frustration and lust mixed together. "R-red, let go, I gotta--" 

"No," Frederick growls, and clenches around Ashe without meaning to. They both groan, Ashe's slightly higher than Frederick's. 

"Fuck, Red, just--" 

"No," Frederick says with feeling, with everything in him, working his hips down against Ashe's cock. "I don't--I don't want to let go, Ashe, I'm never going to--" 

Ashe pants, and Frederick can feel the breath, feel Ashe's chest heaving against Frederick's abdomen.

"Just let me fuck you," Ashe growls, emphasizing his plea with thrusts. In! out--In! Griiiind. 

Frederick groans, shivering, "Fuck, Ashe, I can't, I need..." But he doesn't know what he needs. No, he knows what he needs but he's so fucking afraid of letting Ashe go, suddenly, that he can feel it in his chest, squeezing him up tight. 

"Shhhhh," Ashe hisses, low and gentle, pressing one hand to Frederick's navel and using the other to reach up and grab Frederick's hair. "I'm here, I'm here. I won't... I won't go, I'm here, Red, and you couldn't make me leave even if you wanted to." 

The words should do it; the words should comfort Frederick. But they don't, they barely even get through. What does get through is the way Ashe is grinding into Frederick and the way that the zipper of the jeans scrapes Frederick's ass, the feel of the denim, of the holes, of the jeans that are so goddamn special that Frederick can't fucking stand it. 

He feels tears prickling his eyes as he lets Ashe go, and Ashe immediately starts fucking Frederick with a vengeance. Hard, quick thrusts, fingers digging into Frederick's thighs and that determined look, so determined, so very Ashe. 

Frederick--he doesn't even know what he says. Mindless things, wanting things, about Ashe fucking him, about how good it is. And, after a little while, about how he can't come from just being fucked, and Ashe guides Frederick's hand to his cock. 

"I want to see you come so fucking bad," Ashe says, voice--solemn, except for the breathless quality. "Paint me with your come, right? Like I said earlier. You can do it, Red, so fucking gorgeous, I don't even--why I denied myself this--so hot." And Ashe fucks Frederick harder, bowing his head with the effort and for long moments Frederick can't think, can't move his hand, can only just feel.

Then his hips jerk involuntarily into his hand and he remembers, wraps his hand around his cock and it's so good. Ashe catches Frederick's gaze again, too, and there are fireworks going off in his brain but he's so tight, so tense, so close. 

"Please," Frederick manages to pull a coherent word from somewhere. Not here.

" _Red_ ," Ashe growls, and begins pulling Frederick's hips into the thrusts, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the house, the huge house that Ashe built for Frederick. 

And then there's Frederick's hand on his cock and it's suddenly enough, everything is enough; he comes screaming, at first nothing at all, no words, and then Ashe's name as his cock pulses with each shot of come. He shoots it on Ashe's chest first--Frederick bites his lip--then on Ashe's face, a thin line over Ashe's lip. He licks his lips and Frederick's eyes roll back and Ashe just. 

Keeps going. Keeps fucking Frederick straight through the orgasm and out the other side, his thrusts growing more and more erratic the longer he continues until he's cursing this filthy stream of words, looking Frederick right in the eye. Thrusting in! and in! and in! and staying there, filling him with come. 

Frederick groans, feeling shaky all over, too shaky to move, but Ashe leans down. He kisses Frederick, and that's the taste of him on Ashe's lips. 

There's the soft scrape of the jeans, too, as Ashe grinds his hips in little circles. 

At that moment Frederick is positive that they can't get closer to perfect, even if they try.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, one day I'll stop writing about these two, if only because I'll have explored all of their issues at some point.


End file.
